


New Way to Fly

by kronette



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-26
Updated: 2009-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-20 20:56:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seconds passed before Rodney scoffed, “As if I’d give up something I really cared about.”</p>
<p>Slowly, the past three months clicked into place. Little things; little phrases, all linked to a bigger picture; one John was beginning to understand. His fingers tightened around Rodney’s arm, and he felt the hitched breath in the chest he was lying against. “You’d stay here for me.” It wasn’t a question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Way to Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Believe it or not, a John-centric story. Started in 2005 and completed in December 2009.

John couldn’t tell how bad his injury was, but by Rodney’s expression, it was definitely not good. Things like this seemed to keep happening to members of the expedition. It was impossible to tell on whom the injury would befall, or how serious it would be. Neck-sucking Wraith bugs, cave-ins, natives challenging them for food; it was all part and parcel of their weary group.

The latest hadn’t even happened off world. Just he and Rodney on a pleasant stroll through the parts of Atlantis that were now powered thanks to the ZPM. The first half hour, they’d only come across empty rooms with no discernable function. Then, they had hit the motherload, or as Rodney had so succinctly put it, the “lab that gave him a hard-on”.

Rodney had ordered the entire scientific team to run dozens of tests on the equipment, checking for leaks or instability in any of the containers. After the second hour went by with no incidents, John felt safe in checking out the neighboring rooms.

That’s when everything grayed out, and he came to consciousness with a very worried Rodney hovering too close to him, shouting his name.

John was prone, though his waist was twisted oddly, making him uncomfortable. He didn’t dare show worry – Rodney’s hysterics would only get worse – but he couldn’t feel his legs. He could tell something heavy was on his lower back, rendering him immobile.

“John! Colonel! Good, good, you’re still with me. Eyes open and focusing, good,” Rodney babbled, hands fluttering at the edge of John’s vision. “Don’t try to move – I don’t want you aggravating your – wound.”

Just the way Rodney hesitated over saying the last word was enough to convince John it was Very Bad. “What’s the situation?” he asked, surprised to hear his voice clearly. He expected to have broken ribs, possibly fluid in his lungs, but he didn’t feel anything odd or pained. He tilted his head as far as he dared, able to see Rodney’s eyes – and closed his own.

Blue eyes haunted and pained with knowledgeable worry, though Rodney didn’t have a medical degree.

“Carson’s on his way with a team of marines. We’ll get you out—get you to the infirmary,” Rodney corrected himself quickly. “You’ll get some happy drugs, and you’ll be fine. Fine,” he added, as if convincing himself.

“Great. Could use the time off,” John joked, trying to keep Rodney calm. Odd how when you were the one hurt, you tried to console those around you. Having been on both sides, John didn’t know which he preferred, because the emotional pain of watching a friend or loved one going through agony was just as debilitating as suffering through a major injury.

A stampede of footsteps approached, and he winced as Rodney started shouting out their location. John couldn’t see the reactions of the new arrivals, but their quietness spoke volumes. “Doctor Beckett, how is it?” he asked formally, wanting to keep emotion out of the equation as much as possible.

“Not the best, laddie,” Carson replied quietly, kneeling so John could see his face. “Just lie still. We’ve got to move some metal structures off of you, which will relieve the pressure on your spine.” Worried blue eyes met his. “Have you lost feeling anywhere?” Carson whispered.

John couldn’t hide his fear as he mouthed, “Legs.”

Carson’s lips thinned to a narrow line, but he nodded sharply and glanced above John’s head. “All right, lads, take it nice and slow. Give me time to examine the Colonel before moving the next one. Okay? On three.”

John gritted his teeth as the beams were lifted and removed, though at first, he didn’t feel anything. As the minutes ticked by and Carson kept up his instructions, sweat began to slick John’s skin.

When feeling returned, it forced a scream from John that he had no hope of controlling. Nausea roiled over him as stabs of agony contorted his back muscles. Rushing sound filled his head, blocking out all sound save for the throbbing of pain deep within him. This time, it was blackness, not gray, that claimed him.

When he came to, he was still in a prone position, though the floor was immensely softer. A familiar scent greeted him as he came fully awake – the infirmary. A quick slide of his hand confirmed sheets and a bed beneath him, and he had a lovely view of a white curtain.

“Doc?” he called out, though his throat only made a croaking sound. He cleared it and tried again. “Doc?”

“Carson!” Rodney’s shout startled him, but he was grateful that someone was around. “He’s awake!”

Rodney came into view, looking paler than John had ever seen him. Days of stubble gave him a haggard, weary look, and John wondered just how long he’d been out.

“Rodney?” he said thickly. “What day is it?”

Rodney wrung his hands and hesitated over the answer, relief washing over his features as Carson came into view. “He’s awake! Isn’t it great?” Rodney asked too brightly.

What was Rodney avoiding? Suspicion clawed at John’s insides, though Carson’s arrival detoured his focus onto the doctor. “Doc, mind telling me what day it is, as Rodney seems to have forgotten?”

John’s suspicion intensified as Carson glanced at Rodney and gave a small nod of his head toward the door. Rodney immediately turned and left the infirmary, something John had never seen him do – obey a request without question.

When Carson turned back to him, it was with a look of seriousness mingled with sadness. “It’s been three weeks. I had to induce a medical coma, due to the extensive damage.” As Carson listed his injuries and required time of recovery, John felt his world start to tilt on end. Broken bones would mend in time, but those were by far the lightest of his injuries. Assessments on the amount of nerve damage he’d sustained. No guarantee if he’d regain full use of his legs. No guarantee if he’d be reinstated for duty.

“Can I have a moment?” John interrupted Carson’s litany, unable to stomach any more. He could feel pressure behind his eyes, warning him of impeding tears, and he would _not_ permit himself to feel pity. He would _not_ give in. He didn’t want anyone to witness his struggle to maintain his dignity.

He sensed Carson reach out to touch his shoulder, then pull back hesitantly. “Call if you need anything, Colonel,” Beckett said quietly, then pulled the curtain around him again, giving him privacy.

John might be able to live without walking; he could still function as an important member of the expedition without going off world. He was sure McKay and Zelenka could fashion some sort of wheelchair for him, or possibly even get one from earth the next time the _Daedalus_ made another trip. Walking was negotiable. Flying was not.

He knew he wouldn’t survive being grounded. He didn’t even want to try.

\-----

Assessments on the nerves in his legs put him at 70% recovered; enough to get by in a normal life, but not a military one. A broken left femur reinforced with pins also put him at a disadvantage. He couldn’t begin strength training in full until his broken left shoulder, shattered hip, and assorted fractures in his wrist healed.

Carson set aside a private area just for him, as he couldn’t go back to his quarters just yet. People visited him to wish him speedy recovery, but he couldn’t fake it well enough to quell their fears. He had too many of his own, and too many unanswered questions. Staring at the same curtain day after day didn’t help matters. Books were too difficult to read with one shoulder in a cast and the opposite wrist bound. He had no desire to listen to music. He began to dread visits as well, and started to feign sleep just to get out of talking.

\-----

Life in the Pegasus galaxy continued without his participation, and thankfully, the Wraith still believed Atlantis destroyed. John began the slow process of recovery and rehabilitation with a steely will, but a not-so-confident heart. Beckett set him a well-paced regimen that he followed to the letter, but he didn’t see improvements like he’d wanted. Whenever his leg gave out, or when his arms grew too weak to lift the lightest weight offered to him, his spirit sank just a little bit more.

One day, he simply refused to get out of bed. He locked his quarters and didn’t answer his comm. It didn’t surprise him, but did irritate him, to see Rodney’s face at the suddenly opened doors to his quarters. Of course Rodney could override the locks; he was the expert on Atlantis, after all. John buried himself deeper into bed and didn’t acknowledge Rodney’s arrival.

Rodney never did pay attention to where he wasn’t wanted. John heard the door close, but could still feel Rodney’s presence.

“Um. So. Tired today?”

John didn’t so much as flick an eyelash.

Rodney’s voice was unaccustomedly quiet and fearful as he said, “I can see how tough this is on you. I don’t claim to know what you’re feeling; I’ve never had something like this happen to me.”

Rodney’s voice cracked and John opened his eyes, staring at the other man. His eyes widened at the raw expression on Rodney’s face – eyes wide and scared and this side of desperate.

“I couldn’t think of any phrases that weren’t pat or trite, and we both know that words can’t speed the healing process,” rushed out of Rodney’s mouth, and he had all of John’s attention. “But you can seriously hinder it by giving up. You know the reasons why that’s a stupid plan, so pretend I’ve reiterated them and chastised you properly.”

Rodney made an aborted move toward him, and John almost reached out in anticipation, but quelled the urge, too fascinated by this change in the usually acerbic Rodney McKay to do anything to break the spell.

He watched as Rodney swallowed hard, hands twisting in an old gesture of nervousness. Blue eyes locked on hazel, and John felt the need to retreat from the blazing feeling behind Rodney’s penetrating gaze. “Even though it’s pat and trite, I’ll say it anyway: you have more to live for than you realize.”

As Rodney turned and left his quarters, John felt tears he hadn’t shed slip warmly down his face.

\---

Within an hour of Rodney’s visit, John was back on his feet and moving slowly – but confidently – to the workout area of his quarters. He disgusted himself with his self-pity, and worked through his anger on the weights. By the time the PT arrived, John had worked up a sweat and actually felt _good_ for the first time since the accident.

His progress remained slow over the next few weeks, but John’s attitude changed drastically. Progress was progress; he was lucky to be walking at all. He began to go through reports, taking back his role as military commander of Atlantis. While he missed going out on missions, this was good, too.

His first trip outside his quarters wasn’t a gold medal performance, but he made it to the infirmary and back under his own power. The two walking canes were sturdy enough to support him, and when Carson told him the Athosians had made them, it warmed his heart just a little bit.

He was exhausted, though, so by the time he returned to his quarters, he ended up napping for most of the afternoon. He awoke to knocking on his door.

“John?” Elizabeth called through the door.

He sat up and scrubbed at his face. “Come in,” he called, offering her a bright smile. “You could have called me; I would have come up to the control room.”

Her smile was warm, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I heard about your little excursion today. I’m glad, John.”

His smile faded as he took in her crossed arms and pained expression. “What is it?”

She sat on the edge of his bed, not looking at him. “When the _Daedelus_ was here last month, I received a notice that I’ve been fighting Stargate Command about. I fear, though, that my opinion won’t sway them.”

A wary, uneasy feeling swept through him, and suddenly, he _knew_. “My command.”

She met his eyes, and he wish she hadn’t. Her anger was more than he could handle. “They’re discharging you, John. I’ve given the SGC every reason not to let you go, but I’m just a civilian; they won’t listen to me. They haven’t in the past.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You got me promoted, didn’t you?” he joked absently, his mind whirling. It had taken five years, but the Air Force had finally gotten rid of him. No more chain of command, no more disobeying orders…maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.

Elizabeth’s outrage drew him out of his contemplation. “This is not a joking matter! I had to strongarm the SGC to get your promotion, using the other country’s governments to do it. This isn’t the same. They have valid medical reasons to let you go.”

He stared at his legs, pinching the skin on the side of his thigh. It felt like a tickle. “When’s the _Daedelus_ due back?” he asked thickly.

“Two weeks. I’m sorry, John,” she said, hand squeezing his forearm before she left him alone.

He fell back onto the bed and threw his forearm over his eyes, blanking his mind.

\---

He was finally comfortable walking through the corridors using the two support canes. The non-stares weren’t very easy to ignore, but without fail, Rodney would happen down the same corridor as him and escort him to wherever he’d been going. It was oddly comforting and slightly disturbing. Was Rodney watching him on surveillance cameras? Or were his steps through Atlantis that easy to recognize now?

Rodney would stay for a few minutes talking about whatever discovery the science team had made that day, then just sort of…breeze away, as though he hadn’t been there at all. But the next day, and the next, Rodney would catch up with him in the corridor and walk beside him.

One day, though, he made it through the living quarters area of Atlantis with no sign of Rodney. Feeling put out, he continued past the infirmary into the control room, looking around without trying to look like he was looking around. Then the loud, highly pissed off sound of Rodney yelling drew his attention to Elizabeth’s office. Hands stabbing at the air, pacing in front of Elizabeth’s desk, was one very irate Rodney McKay. Elizabeth was standing with her arms crossed, mouth moving but the sound didn’t carry.

Morbid curiosity drew John closer, where he could make out the words.

“…fight it?” Rodney snapped.

Elizabeth was growing angrier, and John could make out some of her argument. “…think…like it?”

“It sucks! This whole operation sucks and you know it!” Rodney cried, pointing an accusing finger at Elizabeth. “The military occupation of Atlantis was the SGC's idea, and by that extension the American government. This isn’t an American expedition, and I refuse to cooperate with whoever they bring in.”

John’s stomach lurched as he put the pieces together – a new commanding officer was being assigned to Atlantis, and Rodney had found out. John’s logical acknowledgement of the dismissal hadn’t led to any sort of emotional “closure”, as Heightmeyer had put it, yet he had maintained that he was fine with it. Knowing someone else would be in charge of Atlantis, yet _realizing_ it, _feeling_ it, sent his head reeling and his heart racing.

Elizabeth looked to be trying to soothe Rodney, reaching out to touch him, but Rodney flinched back.

“ _No_. They are _not_ recalling him to Earth. Transfer him to the science department if you have to.”

Earth? Elizabeth hadn’t said anything about him returning…no. He couldn’t leave Atlantis, wouldn’t leave her. Couldn’t leave his team, even if he wasn’t leading them anymore.

Before John could think to move, Rodney was turning toward the door, and it opened between the two men. Rodney’s head came up and his eyes locked with John’s. Anger, desperation, fear – all shone from the wide blue eyes.

“Colonel.” It sounded strangled and painful to utter.

He swallowed and tried to form the words, but it took two tries before his voice would cooperate. “They want me back?”

“Wanting isn’t the same as having,” Rodney declared sharply, his face red. “When Caldwell returns, I’ll tell him to fuck off.”

Taken aback by the vehemence, he tried to pitch his voice low. “Rodney, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

Arms crossed as Rodney’s mouth twisted haughtily. “You’re not leaving, Colonel, and that’s final.”

“You’d better learn to call me ‘John’,” he said lightly.

A stricken look crossed Rodney’s features and his arms dropped to his sides. His mouth worked, but no sound came out. Abruptly, Rodney turned and fled down the main corridor.

John stared after him, wishing he could run away, too.

\---

The _Daedelus_ arrived without any official greeting. John didn’t even know it had arrived until Elizabeth paged him to her office. He’d been dreading this moment for two weeks; now he had to face it. Pulling himself up from bed, he started down the corridor. He shouldn’t have been, but he was surprised when Rodney fell into step next to him.

“Stop and sign this,” Rodney said, shoving a PC tablet at him.

He made out the ‘transfer’ part of the screen, though Rodney’s hands were trembling slightly. He recalled Rodney’s offer that he be transferred to the science department. Something inside balked at that. “I don’t want pity,” he snarled as he walked around the outstretched hand.

“You’ve known me two years; have I ever shown pity to anyone?” Rodney snapped.

That stopped him. Rodney never did anything spontaneous. He was methodical and logical and hey, a genius, as if he’d let them forget. John narrowed his eyes at Rodney, trying to figure out exactly what this was about. “Why, then?” he asked.

Rodney rolled his eyes. “You have the gene. You know Atlantis almost as well as I do. And your IQ earns you the right to be part of my team.”

“Thanks for your generous praise,” he said dryly. “But the answer’s still no.”

“Do you want to go back and be nothing?” Rodney snapped. “I don’t foresee a lot of opportunities for an ex-Air Force fly-boy who can’t fly.”

That stung in places John didn’t know still existed. Blindly, he took a swing and caught Rodney partially on the jaw. “You don’t know anything about it!” he yelled, anger and regret and about a dozen emotions that Heightmeyer had warned him about bubbled up, scaring him. “I can barely walk and they’re taking away my command and _flying_ …”

Rodney caught him as his arms and legs gave out, both of them landing awkwardly on the floor. “Stay here and I promise you’ll fly,” Rodney whispered against his hair.

Arms were around him, not quite holding but definitely supporting as John fell apart. Weeks of holding it together, holding it inside, broke free in an unstoppable wave. He felt hands pulling him, but was lost inside the swirl of emotion dragging him down.

When he became cognizant again, he was lying on the floor, being supported by a babbling Rodney.

“It’ll be fine. You can definitely handle most of the math and some of the physics. I hacked into your records; you’ve been holding out on me. Almost MENSA my ass; you’re just as smart as half my team, and that’s saying something. We can’t all be geniuses, but it’ll be nice to have someone else I can trust in the labs.”

Arms tightened around him, and Rodney’s head dipped until breath warmed his cheek. “I need you here, because without you, I don’t know that I can hold it together. So many times I’ve been scared shitless, only to think ‘What would John do?’, and I try, I really try, to be brave like you. I wasn’t meant for this running-for-your-life, shoot-the-aliens kind of thing. I’d never even held a gun until you put one in my hand. I’m not sure I would have done it if it hadn’t been you.”

Tears continued to slip down John’s cheeks as Rodney’s voice dipped lower. “I don’t know what good I’ve done with the gun thing. Don’t really want to carry one. I’m constantly afraid I’ll accidentally shoot someone, or myself, and don’t think I couldn’t do it. I’m not the most coordinated guy.”

Rodney shifted beneath him, adjusting his hold, and John felt Rodney’s hand rub in circles on his stomach. It felt…good.

“I don’t want to go on missions anymore. I want to stay on Atlantis, doing what I came here to do. I’ve got a Nobel prize to win, and hundreds of papers to write, and going off-world wastes my valuable time…”

It was too much. He couldn’t let Rodney stay behind, just because he couldn’t go out anymore. He reached up and touched Rodney’s arm, silencing the man. “Don’t. Not because of me.”

Seconds passed before Rodney scoffed, “As if I’d give up something I really cared about.”

Slowly, the past three months clicked into place. Little things; little phrases, all linked to a bigger picture; one John was beginning to understand. His fingers tightened around Rodney’s arm, and he felt the hitched breath in the chest he was lying against. “You’d stay here for me.” It wasn’t a question.

Rodney’s voice took on a tone he’d never heard before, choked and scared and hopeful. “If you stayed here for me.”

He closed his eyes and swallowed. “Where’s the tablet?” he whispered hoarsely, before he lost his nerve.

Rodney’s body started shifting sideways, and John sat up before he fell over. He got a good look at their surroundings for the first time. “Whose quarters are we in?” he asked nervously.

“No idea. This was the closest door. I didn’t think you’d want others to see,” Rodney answered with a vague wave of his hand, and John understood.

John took the tablet with shaky hands, but when he picked up the stylus, calmness settled over him. This was right. He signed the authorization, dated it, and handed it back. “How long…?”

Rodney beamed - _beamed_ at him. “Instantaneous. Elizabeth was just waiting for your signature; this probably popped on her screen already. Caldwell can go to hell, now.”

Shit! John pushed himself to his knees and steadied himself with the canes. “Elizabeth called…”

Rodney’s dismissing wave confused him. “I already contacted her to say you were in physical therapy and couldn’t be disturbed. She expects you within the hour, though.”

A weak, shaky smile curved his lips. “Thanks,” he whispered. With effort, he righted himself and balanced between the canes, noticing Rodney just inside his peripheral vision. Rodney made no effort to help him, and that settled his nerves just a bit more. This wasn’t pity. This was necessity.

He took a step toward the door and Atlantis opened it for him. He smirked; he had a whole city on his side. The military didn’t stand a chance. He tapped his comm. “Elizabeth, I’m on my way.”

There was a hint of excitement in her voice as she answered, “We’ll be waiting.”

He looked back at Rodney, who said, “I’ll be waiting.”

He loped down the corridor toward the control room, glancing up and seeing Caldwell and several marines in Elizabeth’s office. Caldwell always looked constipated, but now his face was twisted in a scowl. News travels fast, John thought as he walked in. “Reporting as ordered,” he said flippantly.

“Colonel Sheppard, as you have been made aware, you are hereby honorably discharged from the United States Air Force. Your papers,” Caldwell announced almost smugly, hand held out.

John took the thick envelope in a white-knuckled grasp and nodded sharply once. “Thank you, Colonel.”

But Caldwell wasn’t done. He returned to military rest and announced, “Colonel Sheppard, upon your discharge from the Air Force, your entitlement to remain on Atlantis is hereby revoked. You are to return Earth on the Daedelus.”

“Colonel Caldwell,” Elizabeth’s voice interrupted, leveling a gaze at Caldwell. “Colonel Sheppard has requested a transfer to our science department, which has been approved by both Doctor McKay and myself. I’m afraid he won’t be making the trip back to Earth.”

Unwilling to let Elizabeth do all the speaking up for himself, John growled, “I’m not going anywhere. In case you haven’t actually read my file, Colonel, my IQ falls within the guidelines of proposed scientists for this expedition. I have expertise with the puddle jumpers, and it’s my _duty_ to use that expertise for the good of the expedition. My Ancient gene is just a bonus on top of that.”

Caldwell glared at him for a moment, jaw working as he thought. He turned to Elizabeth. “When is your next mission report to the SGC?”

She crossed her arms. “Tomorrow; why?”

Caldwell’s decisive nod made John’s blood run cold. “I’d like to add a personal note to General Landry, apprising him of the situation. He should be able to clear up this…misunderstanding.”

“Why do they want me back so bad? I’m no use to them,” John said softly, indicating his legs. “I would think that letting me stay here, out of their way, would be in their best interest.”

Caldwell fixed him with a laser-sharp glare. “I don’t question orders, Colonel Sheppard. I just follow them.”

The air was sucked out of John, leaving him defenseless. No matter how many times that was thrown back in his face, it still felt like the first.

Elizabeth saved him from coming up with some form of reply. She snapped, “Gentlemen, I believe we’re finished here. Thank you, John,” she said by way of dismissal, then turned to Caldwell. “Colonel, is there anything else you need to discuss with me?”

John turned and left her office, barely able to hold himself upright. In an instant, Rodney was at his side. “Where’d you come from?” John asked sharply.

“Eastern Toronto,” Rodney sniped. “Do you think I’d let Caldwell near you without backup?”

“What?” He looked around, and painfully trying to look like they belonged, stood a lot of the science team. “Rodney?” he questioned, completely baffled.

“You military types have your little groups and clubs,” Rodney announced smugly, “But the science team is a family, and now you’re part of it. We protect our own.”

John didn’t know what to say. It was disturbing, sweet, odd, out of character, and endearing. The control room was bursting with people, and if Caldwell saw them all, there’d be more hell to pay. “Tell them to go,” he hissed at Rodney. At Rodney’s crestfallen look, he elaborated, “I don’t want trouble. Elizabeth can handle Caldwell.”

Rodney nodded and started signaling with elaborate hand gestures. John saw Radek and a few of the other scientists rolling their eyes, but quickly, the extra personnel dispersed from the control room.

“So, guess this means I’m able to give you orders now,” Rodney joked, with an undertone of satisfaction.

“Don’t push it, Rodney,” he hissed as he continued toward his quarters, leaving Rodney to jog to catch up.

“Okay; sorry. I didn’t mean to offend your sense of stubborn pride.”

He knew Rodney was joking-as only he could-but raw emotions got the better of him. “You will show me the same respect you did when I was your commanding officer or so help me, I’ll transfer right back out of your little ‘family’.”

The scientist’s voice was quiet as he asked, “What the hell happened in there?”

Rodney sounded like a little kid. Not the petulant child who didn’t get what they wanted for Christmas, but a little lost boy who can’t spot their mother in the crowded store. His head dropped in shame. “I’m sorry, Rodney. It’s been a hell of a day. I – just need to rest. That’s all.”

He saw the narrowed eyes; could tell that Rodney was thinking in overdrive, but thankfully, let it go. “Fine.” Without another word, Rodney fell into step next to him until they reached John’s quarters.

The doors opened before John could wave his hand at the sensor. He started to turn toward his companion and said, “Rodney…”

“Colonel,” Rodney nodded sharply and was gone before John could utter another word.

With another sigh, John entered his quarters and fell onto his bed, lost in thought. Rodney was in a snit, no doubt about it, and it was his fault.

\----

The next thing he was aware of, morning light was shining through the windows. “Shit!” he exclaimed, not realizing he’d fallen asleep that deeply. Changing as quickly as he could, he made his way to the labs, Caldwell’s threat be damned. If his time on Atlantis was coming to an end, he wasn’t going to leave things as they were between him and Rodney.

The door opened to the lab and the same bustle that always greeted him was present. A few heads turned his way and nodded in acknowldgement, but only Radek’s gaze slid from him to Rodney and back again with a questioning eyebrow. John shrugged in answer, because he couldn’t predict Rodney’s actions, and would never presume to try.

“Colonel.” Rodney stressed his rank, obviously still miffed at him. Not that he expected less.

“Doctor McKay, can I see you in your office?” he asked, startling Rodney so badly the piece of equipment he’d been holding crashed to the table top.

“What? Who? Yes.” Rodney answered, each word a hundred questions as John followed him into the office at the back of the lab.

With a softly uttered, “Lock,” the door sealed behind John.

Rodney was instantly distracted from his anger. “Did you just order the door to lock? How did you do that? No one’s been able to do that verbally. Why does she like you more than me?” Rodney whined and pouted, now completely distracted by the Ancient tech display.

Biting back a smirk, John began softly, “I won’t call you Doctor McKay ever again. I won’t be your lackey that fetches coffee and food.”

“What is it with you and women?” Rodney was on a tear, now inspecting the door panel for clues. “Even _cities_ obey your command. It can’t just be the hair; it must be your personality, or charm, or one of other disgusting behaviors you use to pick up women.”

He got directly behind Rodney, close enough to breathe on the scientist’s neck. “Nah. It’s my great ass.”

He was ready when Rodney whirled around and caught the astonished mouth in a kiss before Rodney could ruin the moment with speaking. His aim was a little off, since Rodney had been in motion, but soon they settled into a deep, satisfying non-verbal assault on each other. Not even the comm. in John’s ear or Elizabeth’s excited voice telling him of Landry’s agreement that John stay on Atlantis distracted him.

One thing that could always be said about Colonel John Sheppard; he was thorough in his work.

Rodney broke away to breathe, “Holy shit, John!” before they were back to John’s first day on the job.

The End


End file.
